EclectEcon

Scholars for Peace in the Middle East Criticize Boycott Call

Scholars for Peace in the Middle East [SPME] have issued a scathing criticism of the UCU's motions proposing a boycott of Israeli academics. SPME seems to me to be somewhat leftwing, with many members opposed to the west-bank settlements; nevertheless they have spoken out against the boycott. Here, in part, is the SPME reaction:

[T]his action [was] instigated by a small group of anti-Israel union delegates who appear not to represent the views of the union membership and who have singled out Israel for opprobrium. The motion is an attempt to delegitimize and to silence the only Jewish state in the world, one of a tiny minority of states in the Middle East that truly honor academic freedom. In Israel's prestigious universities, faculty members represent all religious and political persuasions. Many Israeli professors are Arabs; many are Muslims. How professors at universities in Arab countries are Jews? How many are non-Muslims? How many belong to nondominant Muslim denominations?



In Iran, professors have been purged from universities for ideological and religious reasons, and an American academic, Haleh Esfandiari, was recently imprisoned while visiting her 93-year-old mother. Despite the gargantuan scale of human rights abuses in Sudan, Syria, China, Saudi Arabia, and, yes, Gaza, the UCU is not considering a boycott against any of them. Why not?





The proposed boycott is immoral and antithetical to academic principles. It shuts off dialogue, when one of the key purposes of universities is to promote dialogue and thereby the pursuit of truth. It ignores existing projects where Israeli and Palestinian academics cooperate. It requires academics to hew to one ideological line. And it constitutes discrimination on the basis of nationality.

Boycotting Israel as Moral Masturbation

That is the title of this piece by Bradley Burston [h/t to MA]. Here is an excerpt, but it is very well-written. rtwt [read the whole thing].

Just for the sake of argument, let's suppose that you're a British academic. You believe strongly that the occupation must end, that the Palestinians should have an independent state, that Israel's military and diplomatic policies are wrongheaded to the point of immorality.



What to do? Simple. Find the one group within Israeli society which has consistently, vigorously and courageously campaigned against the occupation since its inception.



Then attack them.



...No matter that in the whole of the 1991 Gulf war, Saddam Hussein managed to hit all of Israel with a total of 39 missiles, and that two weeks ago, Hamas sent 40 rockets into the Sderot area in the space of a single day.



No matter that the Sapir College, Israel's largest public college, has for years been a primary target of Qassam crews.



No matter that in boycotting all Israeli academics on the basis of their being Israelis, the measure is patently racist, a grotesque reprise of the history of curbing academic freedom.



No matter that Israeli Arab academics who are staunchly opposed to the occupation are vehement opponents of the boycott as well.



No matter, even, that opposition to the boycott runs strong within the British University and College Union itself. In fact, all the more reason to press on.



For the genuine elitist, the unpopularity of an opinion is the best assurance of its real value.



Perhaps this is why the whole boycott campaign smacks of a uniquely far-left British brand of moral masturbation, a desperate, delusional, sterile, supremely self-contained form of non-activism that risks nothing even as it changes nothing.

Update: For more analysis and discussion, check out Lower Education from the New Republic by Marty Peretz. His article, along with comments there, offer some additional insights about the nature of the institutions that have been pushing the boycott.

Afternoon Tea: Eat Until the Marginal Utility Is Zero

A proper English afternoon tea is something that refined people take in an elegant atmosphere. I have been told by several people that it is not the same thing as "high tea", which the plebian middle classes take much later in the afternoon/evening in their attempts to emulate the aristocracy.



Last year when I was in England, MA urged me to take afternoon tea "at some tony place" like the Ritz or The Savoy. I balked because I had so many things I wanted to do, and I never got around to doing the tea adventure.



This year, it occurred to me that I should try to follow his advice which has generally been very good and useful. Alas, it was too late for me to book a reservation at the Ritz or The Savoy. Never fear, though, there are plenty of elegant environments in the Mayfair district and environs of London where one can take afternoon tea.



To begin, I solicited advice from many people in this area. Every single one of them who had considerable experience agreed that both the Ritz and The Savoy no longer had "it", that they were trading on their reputations. There was strong support for Claridge's, some mild support for Brown's, and a smattering of mentions of Harrod's or Fortnum and Mason's. They all also agreed that it is inadvisable to eat anything after breakfast before tea, because while it may not look like a lot of food, it can be very filling if the place keeps bringing you more as you finish each lot.



I followed up this lively discussion with a search of the internet for information, advice, and reviews. I had never had afternoon tea before. Hell, I thought "clotted cream" meant cream that had gone bad and had curdled (it doesn't mean that at all. It refers to Devon cream), and so I had avoided it like the plague, wondering why anyone in their right minds would ever want to eat it on scones (which are a bit like over-sized baking-powder biscuits, when you get right down to it).



I was told that one is expected to wear a coat and tie to afternoon tea, which poses no problem for me since that is often how I dress when I teach. But it turns out that many/most establishments now have a "smart casual" dress code that means anything other than muddy work boots seems to be acceptable, more's the pity.



Here are some of the links to reviews and write-ups about afternoon tea here, here, and here, for those who might be interested.



Because I started so late to try to get reservations, the more popular places didn't have a table available at a convenient time the very next day. At the same time, at least one of the reviews said that The Four Seasons was an excellent place to begin if you haven't taken afternoon tea before at one of these tony types of places. So I had my afternoon-tea deflowering at The Lounge in The Four Seasons a few days ago (and, appropriately, began with Jasmine tea).



Here is an edited version of what I wrote to Ms. Eclectic after the experience:

Tea at the Four Seasons was very nice. The menu was exactly as described on the internet, and I ordered the spring champagne tea because I liked the sounds of those sandwiches better than the ones served for the traditional afternoon tea.



I started with champagne and then had jasmine tea. The hostess/server was very attentive, but in a tasteful and discreet way; she didn't hover, but she kept her eye on me to make sure everything was okay. Early on, while I was drinking my champagne, she asked if I would like a newspaper or magazine, and when I said I thought that might be nice, she quite appropriately guessed that The Telegraph would suit me. [see Tuesday's posting for a description]



After she had served me the tea, she brought a sort of silver tree-like thing, almost two-feet tall, that had clotted cream and jam on a plate at the bottom, sandwiches in the middle, and scones (warm and covered) on the top. I ate the five little sandwiches first (even the one with crab, the one with smoked salmon, and the one with olives, things I'm not usually very keen on, being more of a burger or peanut-butter-and-jam kind of guy) and before I could start on the scones, the server asked whether I would like more sandwiches, so I had another round of those. The crab sandwiches were in little puff thingies, and the smoked salmon were on mini-croissants, and there was a delicious chicken sandwich and something else with lots of mushrooms. The bread was thin, and the crusts had been removed, as I had been told is an absolute necessity at a proper English tea. The server explained them all to me, but I've forgotten what they were.



Then I had the scones: one with raisins (called a "fruit scone" by many people) and one plain. The "clotted" cream is very spreadable and the strawberry-rhubarb jam was good. When I had finished those, they brought out two more, which I couldn't finish.



All the time, the server kept pouring the tea for me. She was very good — not overbearing, but on the ball. The tea began to taste a bit bitter near the end of the pot, so when she asked if she could bring me another pot, I asked for their anniversary blend, which was really nice. If you ever go there, I recommend trying it.



Then she brought out little desserts. I was allowed to choose three of the five. I had a tiny almond cream-filled puff with something that seemed like hardened caramelized sugar on top, a fabulous strawberry and cream tart, and some horrid ginger and raspberry torte, which was the only thing I found totally inedible during the entire tea. It was all finished off with a beige-coloured champagne truffle on a strawberry slice, all on a large spoon. I had no idea how to eat it, so I just shoved the whole thing into my mouth.



The entire experience/adventure took me over an hour and a half, and I could gladly have taken longer and stretched it out more, but I had to leave to catch my ride back to the castle.



I'm glad I did it, but I am not so sure I want to do a whole lot more of these (just for comparison's sake). I had a reservation for one at Brown's this Friday after my class's field trip to London (for a seminar on congestion pricing), and one at Claridge's for the following Tuesday. I have canceled the one at Brown's and go to Devonshire directly on the weekend and sample an afternoon tea at some "tony place" there in the own of Bath (the Royal Crescent for sure, and perhaps the Pump House — recommendations are eagrely solicited).



While I was at The Four Seasons, I absolutely loved the experience and thought "Wow! This is something I could get used to if I had the money." but when I had returned to the castle and was suffering from having over-eaten, I knew I would not be able to do this on a regular basis, at least not if I ate everything I could.

In our introductory economics courses, we often make the point that at all-you-can-eat buffets, people tend to keep eating so long as their expected marginal utility is positive (i.e. up to the point at which it becomes zero). I think I did that at the Four Seasons, but ex postI might have gone past the zero point [of course I did not go through the zero point on an expected utility basis; I am, after all, a rational maximizer].



More later if I get a chance, describing some comparison experiences.

Brit Union of Academics Votes to Boycott Israeli Scholars

First it was the AUT leadership, voting a boycott of Israeli scholars, and they were rebuffed, to say the least, by their general membership.



Then it was NATFHE, another union of academics, voting to boycott Israeli scholars, but they soon merged with the AUT, leaving a vote of their directors as meaningless.



But now the leadership of the combined unions, under the general grouping, the UCU, have voted to support a boycott of Israeli academics.



I strongly oppose their views on two grounds:

1. First, I am not convinced that Israel is doing much wrong with its occupation of the west bank. Failure to occupy the west bank would have been like telling robbers that if they get caught, the only punishment is that they must give back what they have stolen and that there will be no further deterrence. That's just plain silly because it doesn't discourage robbers from trying to steal again and again.
   
   
   
   Israel repelled an attack in 1967, only to have to fight another war in 1973. After that war, they said (and quite rightly under both international law and following just plain common sense) if you folks are going to keep using these lands as launching pads, both literally and figuratively, we're going to hold them until you renounce such plans. Such renunciation has not occurred.
   
   
   
   Nevertheless, Israel has been open and democratic. Yes, it cut off payments to the Palestinian Authority once Hamas was elected, and for bloody good reason: Hamas has as one of its primary goals the eradication of Israel (and, incidentally, the Jews who live there). There is no earthly reason why the UCU should expect Israel to continue making payments to a sworn enemy. If they really disagree, let them all contribute 10% of their salaries to the US Republican party.
2. But even if you don't accept my first point, this one is compelling: in the name of academic freedom, there is no justifiable reason for this boycott. If the UCU wants to single out academics for boycott, let them single out those from China or Iraq or Iran or Egypt or any other place where there are documented human rights abuses or flagrant violations of the concept of academic freedom. Academic freedom says that we scholars should assess the works of others on their merits, not on the basis of the politics of their home country.
   
   
   
   Instead, the UCU picks on Israeli academics. There can be only one reason for this: anti-semitism, pure and simple. And it is frightening.

For more, please see this, which summarizes the motions that were passed by the UCU Congress.



Also, please see this from Engage, which says

1 This is not a decision to institute a boycott. That decision can only be made by the whole membership through a ballot. That was the commitment on which Sally Hunt was elected as General Secretary. Congress also backed a policy which does not allow a boycott of Israeli academic institutions unless it is called for by Israeli campus trade unions. Which it won't be.



2 UCU Congress has today voted for a roadshow touring colleges and universities drumming up support for an exclusion of Israelis - and only Israelis - from our campuses, our conferences and our journals. The union is mandated to finance this tour and to stack the debate in favour of a pro-boycott outcome.

And also see this for a reaction.



And one final point: where is the outrage from non-Jewish, non-Israeli organizations? I am embarrassed and appalled by the (so far) lack of responses from such groups. Am I the only gentile in the universe who sees things this way?



[h/t to MA for the links]



Update #1: also see this from Melanie Phillips and this from Little Green Footballs.



Update #2: Both Melanie Phillips and Normblog quote this from Ha'aretz:

On Wednesday, representatives of the new British University and College Union (UCU) will be meeting in Bournemouth. On the agenda is another proposal to boycott Israel's academic institutions. These proposals have become as regular and as predictable as Qassam attacks on Sderot. The fact that studies at the Sapir Academic College in Sderot are not taking place because of the constant rocket fire from Gaza, even though the college is not in occupied territory and Gaza is no longer occupied, apparently does not bother British academia. The fact that Hamas, which controls the Palestinian Authority, does not recognize even pre-1967 Israel, and commits acts of terror against civilians, does not matter either. These nuances did not stop one boycott initiator from saying last week that justice in the Palestinian-Israeli conflict is entirely on one side.

Norm continued,

This editorial in Haaretz rightly identifies the thinking of the would-be boycotters as impelled by a desire to de-legitimize Israel - identifies it with 'the position that the very birth of the Jewish state was a mistake'.

Update #3: And check out Stephen Pollard's column about boycotts of Israel.



Update #4: Rénald writes,

I find this totally ridiculous! Why of all people attack the scholars??? Why not the bakers, bankers and doughnut makers? It would make as much sense.



Boycotting scholars is like boycotting knowledge...it can only lead to ignorance or maybe they are already there!

to which BenS adds,

Of course, but why boycott any Jewish institution? The boycotters are playing copycat and operating like an ignorant herd….which they are. I’ll make one exception for these ignorant hypocrites: let them boycott for themselves and their families any medical or scientific advancement created or produced by Jews -— but being hypocrites, they won’t do that.

Update #5 Tim Worstall says that English academic unions are not worth worrying about.

The academic unions are well known to be populated and run by people with any number of very peculiar bees buzzing under their bonnets. The rest of us look upon them almost fondly, as examples of a well meaning but possibly futile form of Care in the Community.



The idea that we should take seriously anything that comes from such obvious nutters simply never occurs to those of us outside the hallowed halls of academe.

I hope he's right, but the UCU is still wrong and very unscholarly.

Ayr, Scotland

Several weeks ago, Ms. Eclectic, The Chauffeur, and I enjoyed a visit to Ayr, southwest of Glasgow, Scotland. We stayed in an apartment in one of the taller buildings at the mouth of the river.



You have to hand it to the folks there. They have a bit of a sense of humour, especially in the naming of their casino:

This was the view from our apartment building, looking back at the bridges from which I took that first photo:







It was beautiful, and we had a very relaxing stay.

British Newspapers, in a Nutshell

One of my colleagues informed me at lunch yesterday that,

• People who read The Guardian think the country should be run by the communists.
• People who read The Telegraph think the country already is being run by the communists.

His succinct version is much better than this one from Yes, Minister, which he later forwarded to me.

Here is the full version of Jim Hacker (MP) discussing the national press with his civil servants, from the episode 'A Conflict of Interest':



Jim: I know exactly who reads the papers.

The Daily Mail is read by people who think they run the country.

The Guardian is read by people who think they ought to run the country.

The Times is read by people who actually do run the country.

The Daily Mirror is read by the wives of the people who run the country.

The Financial Times is read by people who own the country.

The Morning Star is read by people who think the country ought to be run by another country.

The Daily Telegraph is read by people who think it is.

Sir Humphrey: Prime Minister, what about people who read the Sun.

Bernard: Sun readers don't care who runs the country as long as she's got big tits.

The Yen "Carry Trade"

I'm generally pretty ignorant when it comes to international finance and exchange rate determination, so can someone please tell me why this is an equilibrium (from Steve Poloz):

The yen carry trade can take on a variety of forms, but at the heart of each is a loan taken out in Japanese yen, the proceeds of which are used to invest in financial assets elsewhere in the world. It takes advantage of the fact that Japanese interest rates are extraordinarily low, while other countries' interest rates are much higher. For example, an investor can borrow yen from a Japanese bank, convert the funds into Canadian dollars, buy a Canadian government bond, and earn an interest rate spread of around 4%.



The best part of this investment strategy is that the investor makes a 4% spread return on the entire structure, most of which is not his money. He may be required to put up 5% or 10% collateral with the bank - essentially investing $5 of his own money to buy $100 in Canadian bonds, thereby earning a $4 return on just $5 invested, or effectively 80%. Layered on top of the structure is an expectation that the Japanese yen will continue to drift down while the Canadian dollar may continue to appreciate - another positive return.

Why haven't speculators/arbitragers been doing this to the nth degree, driving up Japanese interest rates and driving down Canadian interest rates? And why hasn't this caused expectations of future apprectiation or depreciation of the relevant currencies? How can this be an equilibrium that lasts longer than a few nano-seconds, much less months or even years? Why aren't fund managers and investors doing this with even bigger chunks of their portfolios? Is the risk of future foreign exchange movement so high? Really????



Steve's answer, which doesn't completely persuade me, is that, yes, exchange rate risk is at work here.

The problem with these structures is the potential for an abrupt unwinding of positions. An investor who decides to take his $5 out of the market sells $100 in Canadian bonds, sells $100 of Canadian dollars, and buys yen to close his position. Accordingly, a shift in expectations about monetary policies or currencies can lead to a very rapid evaporation of positions and huge moves in exchange rates.



The bottom line? The yen carry trade is a legitimate tool for many financial institutions. But, like many synthetic financial structures, its over-use as a wagering tool runs big risks, both for the investors and for the global financial system at large.

Indiana Jones? Meet The East-Sussex EclectEcon

The Village of Wartling is about a 20-minute walk from the castle across some fields. It has a superb, upscale pub, called "The Lamb". It also has, hidden by some hedges, an archaeological dig going on. The dig is part of a graduate project by a student at Sussex University, but my colleague, Professor Scott McLean, is involved in the project as well, and he solicits volunteers to help with the dig whenever possible on weekends, and so I went along to see what was what last Saturday. [as usual, please click on the photographs if you wish to see them larger and in fuller resolution.]







The site is located in a very small field just behind the home of someone who initially was interested in why their land had such unusual contours and has been very generous, not doing anything with the land while the dig is underway.







Most of us had little or no experience at archaeological digs, and Philippa, the archaeologist in charge of the dig, had a couple of the strapping young undergrads clearing off the grass and topsoil. Others she put to work washing and scrubbing (with a soft toothbrush) the carefully identified bags of artifacts (mostly pottery, some metal bits, including nails).



Me? I was so inexperienced that she put me to work washing and scrubbing artifacts from something called "spoils", which is the collected stuff that has not been identified as to location in the dig and is probably not of much value historically or archaeologically. If I screwed up, I probably wouldn't ruin anything.









As with any dig, things have to be put into a grid and accurate records must be kept. I had seen these sorts of things before: boxes with string that mark off a temporary grid and that make it easier to sketch the locations of stones and bricks that might have been part of suspected walls, hearths, etc.







After I did a bit of washing and scrubbing of bits of pottery, I went to help one of the students skim the topsoil from where they had removed the grass. We used smallish trowels and skimmed the dirt down about a quarter inch or so with each pass, removing and saving bits of things that might be part of something else or might be of interest (i.e., we saved absolutely everything, including pebbles!). Man, that troweling was back-breaking work AND it was hard on the knees.

At noon, Scott drove the students back to the castle for lunch, but I opted for going across the road to The Lamb for a pint of cider and some steak and ale pie. The service was unbelievably slow, in part because the pub is a favourite for yuppies on weekends, but I was happy to sit and rest my weary joints, so I didn't mind all that much.

The food at The Lamb is very good, and it doesn't stink in that pub (like rotten lamb innards or something, which is how some country pubs seem to smell).



Also, The Lamb at Wartling (as distinguished from The Lamb at Hooe, which is also very good and only a few miles away) has a very classy tiled trough urinal for men in the Gents, unlike the stainless steel or even grubbier ones often seen in lesser establishments.



After lunch, I was put to work on troweling a small section with Jacquie, a volunteer with quite a lot of experience and who has become very knowledgeable as a result. As we scraped and troweled, she explained to me about hammer ponds — ponds in the area that were formed from dammed up creeks so that the built-up water pressure could be used to power hammers to crush the iron stone for smelting (probably somewhat analogous to the way taconite ore is used today in the northern midwest of the US); there are tonnes of these hammer ponds in this area. Jacquie said that during the Tudor period this region was undergoing a sizeable industrial revolution, producing iron for much of England. The iron industry didn't move north to any great extent until coal and coke were used for smelting. Until then, charcoal was the fuel, and there were lots of trees to make charcoal in this region. Scott added that many homes from the Tudor era had their own small hearths and made their own iron.



[digression: this all brought to mind my very first publication as an economist, 76 years ago, on ancient metal technology where I showed that it was typically most efficient for iron producers to locate near the fuel sources, not near the ore sources and not near their markets.]



Whoa! What's this? My first artifact as an amateur archaeologist! a shard of glass sticking up through the clay I had been scraping and troweling.



It was fun to come across something other than bits of ironstone and pebbles. Even though it was near quitting time, I announced that I did not care if the shard was a foot long down into the clay, I was staying until midnight, if I had to, to unearth this shard, my very first archaeological artifact. Scott, Philippa, and Jacquie were amused.



But as I kept scraping and troweling around the glass bit, it became clear it was not going to loosen up and be removed easily. And even though diggers are not supposed to dig down around an artifact, but are supposed to maintain an even layer of troweling, I was allowed to sort of dig and trowel around this shard until it was revealed to be a bit of a bottle.



Philippa immediately identified it as an "onion bottle", so called because of its shape (bulbous on the bottom and narrow at the top). These types of bottles were common around 1700 or so, often used on ships because of their low centre of gravity, which makes sense since the sea probably came up to within several hundred yards of this site at one time.



Once we found that this was more than a mere shard of glass, the humour stopped, and we became VERY careful, brushing and troweling with an even smaller tool. We hoped that the whole bottle would be there, and maybe the rest of it is under some more clay, but with more troweling and brushing, this is what we saw:







The neck and top of the bottle are intact on the right, and there appear to be bits that have been crushed by the weight of time (and dirt). Here, in the end, is what we recovered:



And here is what a real onion bottle looks like. This one is on display in Knole, a palatial summer home built back in the 15th century and which has on display many portraits, tapestries, and upholstered chairs that are over 300 years old or older.













One of the more fascinating discoveries at the site last year was this well, still intact but under a couple of huge stones, and very well built.























All-in-all, what a wonderful experience for a complete noviate novice! Step aside, Indiana Jones. Make way for The East-Sussex EclectEcon!

More on Boycotting Israel

Why is it that so many members of the left-wing (we're gonna find something about some establishment to protest) spend so much time and effort attacking Israel for its alleged human rights abuses? There are so many much more deserving targets, as Perry de Havilland points out:

There is an article on the Guardian site called Throw a pebble at Goliath: don't buy Israeli produce, by Yvonne Roberts, in which she urges people to boycott Israel because of its human rights record.



Now I know nothing about Yvonne Robert and have never even heard of her before, but I assume she also an avid campaigner for people to boycott products from Cuba, Burma, Sudan, Saudi Arabia, China (good luck doing that), Iran, Syria, Belorus, Zimbabwe, North Korea (assuming they actually produce any products) etc. etc. etc... after all, if she is such a tireless campaigner for human rights, surely she could not possibly feel it was alright for people to trade with all those places, given the state of human rights in those places. Right?



Anyone want to take any bets on this? [links are in the original]

As one of the commenters there said,

The day when those regimes become predominantly Jewish is the day that these people will start criticizing them, regardless of whether their human-rights records get better or worse.

Oh, oh. Now the British architects are getting into the act. What a bunch of ignoramuses. Read the comments there to get a good idea of just how ignorant they are.



Anyone who says,

This is not against Israel, it's for Palestine,... I think the Palestinians are living in a prison.

has not been paying attention to Middle Eastern events for the past five years and what it means to be pro-Palestinian. The suicide bombings, the kidnappings, the rockets, the promises to drive Israel into the sea... these count for nothing?



[h/t BenS]

More on the UCU Congress' Motions to Boycott Israeli Academics

It is so difficult to understand how scholars worthy of the name got to these views. Click here for a complete list of the motions that are to be discussed at the Bournemouth meetings later this week. I will not reproduce them here.



My recommendation: find out which schools support such anti-Semitic drivel, such blind one-sidedness, and boycott academics from those institutions. My guess is that such a retaliatory boycott would be totally unnecessary; I cannot imagine the authors of these motions produce much, if any, work that is truly scholarly in nature.



I see from the SPME website that there will be a booth at the Congress, operated by a combination of Israeli and Palestinian students, presenting examples of Israeli/Palestinian co-operation.

Anti-Semitic British Academics Propose Yet Another Boycott

This week, the new union of post-secondary educators in the UK will be meeting, and one of the agenda items will be a proposed boycott of Israel and Israeli academics.



Why not a boycott of China for its treatment of Tibet? Why not a boycott of Palestine (and the other Arab-Muslim states) for their treatment of Jews? Why single out the country that has more democracy and more human rights (and, in many ways, less aggression) than any other country in the Middle East?



Even if you think Israel should not have occupied the west bank (and should have left it for the Jordanians and Syrians to use as a further launching pad for additional raids and rocket attacks on Israel), read this by David Hirsh, who believes Israel should withdraw from the west bank but who strongly opposes the boycott.

The boycott rhetoric does not help Palestinians. But it is seductive because it functions as a way to help boycotters feel better about living in a world in which horrors continue to happen. The boycott rhetoric doesn't stop the horrors and it doesn't make the world fair, but perhaps it can absolve us from the existential guilt that we bear because the world is what it is.



Perhaps it can do something about our terrifying feelings of powerlessness? In a post-national and a post-imperial world, the guilt of nationalism and imperialism can be focused on to Israel and we can thereby feel absolved ourselves. It is the ultimate "not in my name" gesture politics. It doesn't change anything but it enables us to step outside of the tear-stained reality of anti-semitism and empire, Holocaust and Nakba, aggressive settlement and nightclub bombing. But the dream of stepping outside history is vain and is intimately related to the nightmare of totalitarianism.

My own view is that academic freedom is more important than these types of political statements. But I've said all this before. Michael Yudkin makes the case quite well in one of his recent articles at Engage.



More on boycotts of Israel to follow this afternoon.

Ugly Canadian Ethnocentric 12-year-old-type Puerile Behaviour?

Honestly, it took me several seconds to figure out what these signs on the Madrid Metro meant.



This first one looked to me as if it was saying "no hitch-hiking", which seemed an odd thing to say on a subway car.

After I looked at the sign for a few seconds, I realized it was saying something like, "Don't hold or force the doors open."



And I knew, really knew, that this sign was not saying, "No farting", though that might not be a bad sign for a subway car. And I also knew that it was not saying, "Don't stick your butt (or bum) out in the way of the train where it might get hit."







I had to look at the sign a couple of times before I could tell it was saying the same thing as this luggage tag from London about the London Underground:

An Aerial View of the Castle

I did not take this photograph. This is just a photo of a photograph that is hanging on one of the walls of one of the hallways at Herstmonceux Castle. [again, to see a clearer version, please click on the photo]

The square in the upper right quandrant is the castle. The gardens stretch northward from the back of the castle; the moat and lake surround the castle on the east, south, and part of the west side.



Just west of the castle are a tea room, a gift shop, and some cottages, where some permanent members of the faculty are housed.



Down in the south-southwest portion of the photo are buildings that house students and faculty, and just west of those buildings are Church Farm, and all its buildings. The very bright building just north of the farm is Herstmonceux Church, built way back long before the castle was built.

The Madrid Metro

The subway system in Madrid is superb. It is clean, safe, well laid-out, reliable, and inexpensive; and it provides frequent service, even during considerably off-peak times (e.g. after midnight).



Last Saturday, after a late-night dinner and then more wine and then some scotch, I decided I'd better take the metro/subway back to my hotel. It was well-past midnight. I had to make one change, but I never had to wait more than 4 or 5 minutes for a train; during rush hour, the trains come every one or two minutes on most routes.



Late at night, the trains are not jammed with riders:







Contrast that with the rush hour the following morning:





In fact that train was so full, I waited for the next one to come, only about a minute later.



One thing that puzzled me about the Madrid Metro was that the trains travel on the left side. What I mean is, when there are two tracks, side-by-side, the trains pass each other on the left (like cars driving on the left side of the road).

That seems very English, given that in Spain cars drive on the right side of the road. Does anyone know why the trains run this way? The best suggestion I have heard so far was from Kerri, who thought maybe the system was designed by British engineers.

Notice how empty the platforms are in those two photos. Obviously the pictures were taken during my post-midnight journey.

The system overall is great, but it isn't perfect:

• The metro stop at the airport is a 27 mile walk from Terminal 1, the terminal from which I was flying.
• and more importantly, when you enter a train car, you see a route map over the opposite doorway, but it most likely is NOT for the route you are riding. For a newcomer/tourist, this is very confusing and disturbing because it makes you think that you got on the wrong train. It is nice that they post maps in the cars for some of the connecting routes, but it would be even nicer if they posted only a map of the route the car is traveling over the doors (as seems to be the practice for the London Tube). I presume they do not do this in Madrid because the cars are shifted from route-to-route. But that means travelers must be VERY careful to make sure they follow the signs to get on the correct train.

As I said at the outset, the Madrid Metro is quite inexpensive. If you visit there, get a 1- 3- 5- or 7-day tourist pass that is good for both the subway and the bus line. It almost always works out to be much cheaper than the single fare, and is usually cheaper than the 10-ride ticket; and it is very convenient.

As if....

Headline in First Post:

France ‘was seconds’ from downing Israeli jet

The story continues with assertions that there have been confrontations between France (heading the UN mission) and Israel in Lebanon,

In the most serious confrontation, French troops were said by sources in Paris to have been "just two seconds" from launching an anti- aircraft missile at two Israeli F-15 fighters carrying out mock low-level attack runs over one outpost.

I give the French a less-than-five-percent chance of ever being able to do this.



And, as a side note, the coverage by First Post certainly seemed anti-Israel to me.

English Letter Boxes

On the right is Ms. Eclectic, mailing some of many postcards she sent while she was with me in England.



The mailbox looks old and beaten up, but that is mainly because it is on a high traffic route at Paddington Station and probably has, indeed, been seriously beaten up many times by delivery vehicles. It cannot be more than 55 years old at the most, though, because it has "ER" on it, with II between the E and the R, meaning it was installed while Elizabeth II was queen (she became queen in 1952).











On the left is an older mail boxin Hailsham (in East Sussex, southeast England). It has GR on it, meaning it was installed while George VI (Elizabeth's father) was king.

And below, from the town of Rye, is a photograph of a mailbox that is probably more than 100 years old. It has VR on it, meaning it dates from Queen Victoria's era.







Here are some other examples of the different-aged mailboxes. Most of the VR mailboxes I've seen have been embedded in brick columns. Presumably they are left in place because ripping them out and replacing them would be costly (though it appears that all the mailboxes are repainted fairly frequently).







[h/t to JZ for explaining all this to me!]













Update: Here is a website with tonnes of information about British Letter Boxes. Part II of the history has more information about the era about which I wrote above [h/t to Tim Worstall in the comments].

Dumb and Dumber (me!):a trek along English country lanes

I do not have any classes on Tuesdays here at the castle, so I try to get out each Tuesday to see a new part of this region of England (Sussex); often this involves considerable walking.



A week ago Tuesday I looked at the weather forecast and saw that rain was predicted, but decided to chance it anyway. What a dumb move. My plan was to take a bus to Heathfield and then meandre down country lanes and across the fields on public footpaths, ending up in Herstmonceux Village that evening in time for a pub dinner and some live jazz at the Brewer's Arms, one of my favourite haunts when I'm here (Herstmonceux Village is about two miles north of Herstmonceux Castle, where I am teaching).

One of the castle minivan drivers drove me all the way to Heathfield though , so I didn't have to take any buses to get there, and I arrived there much earlier than I had expected to.(thanks, Nigel!).



I arrived in Heathfield about 9:30am. It started raining at 9:32, and it never really stopped after that.



There's a huge park with the ruins of a castle on the eastern edge of the town, and getting to it is all uphill. When I got there, I found out it is private, and there was no way to walk through the area. So I walked around it to Old Heathfield, expecting to stop for a break there, but the restaurant didn't open until an hour after I got there. This was the story of my trip: pubs and tearooms not open when I got there. Here's the church in Old Heathfield, which is not at the centre of Heathfield, but instead is on the east side of that huge green area, sort of under the letter "I" in "Heathfield" on the above map):







It was so cold most of the time that I couldn't both use my walking stick and hold the umbrella because I had to alternate keeping a hand in my pocket to warm it up. I opted for using the umbrella nearly the entire time.



I got to Vines Cross village at 11:40, but the pub there didn't open until noon, so I wandered the village, looking for the post office that is shown on the Ordnance Survey map (shown below), hoping it might be in a store and I could get something to eat. No luck. There is no post office in Vines Cross any longer.







The pub there was expensive and cold, but the food and cider were pretty good. I didn't realize they didn't have the heat on at first, but I was so tired I'd probably have stayed anyway. I left there about 1:30 (I actually think I dozed a few minutes at one point) and went on to the Warbleton Village pub (down and around on the yellow road in the above map), arriving there at 2:30. It was on this stretch of the walk that I passed these two perfect specimens of what I call "nursery rhyme geese":







I had a half pint of cider at the Warbleton pub, but they closed at 3pm for the afternoon, so I had to push off again. I took the long way to Cowbeech, via Rushlake Green (sorry, pub closed... ), and the pub in Cowbeech was also closed for the afternoon, so I had to keep pushing onward — no rest for the stupid and ignorant.



It was so wet that entire day that I stuck to roads the whole time, not wanting to walk through wet, muddy fields. And I didn't want to sit down anywhere because I knew I'd get big wet bum if I did. I just kept walking...



I got to the village of Herstmonceux about 5pm and went to the Woolpack Inn, a pub that is open all day (The Brewer's Arms isn't). It wasn't all that warm, either, and is favoured by apparent relatives of the F'n Four from Fanore. I had another half pint there and was debating having supper there or somewhere else in the village when I realized I was exhausted and not all that hungry, so I gave the jazz a miss and went back to my apt., arriving there about 7pm.



Along Church Row, the road from the village to the castle, I passed one home that had beautiful flowering shrubs (actually, there are quite a few):







When I got to the apartment, I hung my clothes on the radiator to dry, called Ms. Eclectic, and was asleep by 7:30.



Altogether I probably walked somewhere between 13 - 20 miles; I have little idea for sure, but I was walking for about 6 and a half of the 10 hours I was away.



Dumb: going for a long walk despite the consistent forecasts of rain from every weather service.

Dumber: expecting to rest at various pubs along the way, when I should have known that most village pubs open late for lunch and close for a few hours in the afternoons.



Lessons learned? probably none; I'm a slow learner.

A Boat and Music Lover

At a small harbour in Ballyvaughan (western Ireland), I saw this boat at the pier/dock.

I'm guessing the owner of the boat liked music and, in particular, Mozart's The Magic Flute, in which Papageno was a major character. Just check out the music and staff on the fin of the little contraption in the upper left hand corner of the above photo:





digression: One of our favourite piano duets when my sister and I were young was "Papageno's Song".

"Social Justice"

One of the papers at the conference I am attending has the phrase "social justice" in the title. Last week, before leaving for the conference, I told my colleagues at The Castle that typically this is just a buzz word/phrase for "condescending paternalistic pinko left-wing elitist interventionism". I'll be very curious to see if the paper fits the mold. I have tight priors that it will.



Here, from an article in the New Criterion about Hayek, is a similar perspective:

Think only of the odious phrase “social justice.” What it means, in practice, is de facto injustice, since it operates by enlisting the legal machinery of justice in order to support certain predetermined ends. Partisans of “social justice” eschew “merely formal” justice; in so doing they replace the rule of law—which was traditionally represented as blind precisely because it was “no respecter of persons”—with the rule of (pseudo) “fairness.”

Let me add that despite his strong criticisms of socialism and big gubmnt, it is not at all clear to me that Hayek was opposed to having some sort of social safety net provided by gubmnt. It seemed to me, though, from what I read by him, that he favoured a much lower social safety net than we now have in either Canada or the US, that he saw the ideal as a bare minimum safety net.

[h/t to BenS]

Going to a Bullfight in Madrid

The weather forecast for last night still wasn't very good — rain and thunderstorms — but the forecasts have been wrong ever since I got here two days ago, forecasting rain and cold when in fact we'd get sun amd warmth.



So I took the subway to the bullfight arena in Madrid. It's sort of like going to a Jays baseball game... tonnes of people on public transportation all emerging at the stop for the bullfight arena.







I was told by someone who spoke English in the lineup for tickets that the only tickets left were the really expensive ones for 42 Euros (about $60 Cdn), but they were hoping to get some cheap ones that hadn't been claimed. I figured that since I was alone I had a good chance of getting a cheap seat. I was right. I got one in the top tier for 4.2 Euros. Here is another photo from in front of the arena with the famous bull-and-matador sculpture off to the left.







The stadium holds only about 20,000 people or so, so top tier seats still aren't all that far away from the action. At a baseball game, they'd be good seats. Nevertheless some of the true aficionados in the top tier bring binoculars to watch the detailed moves of the matador.



One reason my ticket was so cheap was that it was for the section that would be in the sun, if it shone, but I wasn't at all worried about that, given the clouds. Also I have a hat with a good brim, and the action would all be down, way below me; if the sun did shine, I'd be looking down, not into the sun, and that late in the evening I didn't expect the sun to be too warm.







Those clouds look ominous, don't they. Also, notice the chalked white circles.



The "seats" at the arena are just over-sized concrete steps with numbers painted on them. The result is that you often have someone's knees touching your back, and your knees are often touching someone in front of you. It's all very intimate.







You can see that if it rains, the people in the cheap seats are covered, but the ones down close get dumped on. Also, you can see that the cheap seats, as well as the ones in the tier below them, have tonnes of posts, blocking some views, but my seat was right between the posts. I knew I'd get a good view there.



As you look around the arena, one thing you notice is that there are absolutely zero ads anywhere. How long do you expect it will be before that changes?



A few minutes after I found my seat, it started to rain. The people in the lower seats put on brightly coloured thin plastic rain ponchos and opened their umbrellas.







The rains continued, and became quite drenching. Also, the winds picked up, and those in the first couple of rows on the "in the sun" side where I was got soaked and went back inside the arena, as did almost all the people in the open, lower sections.















I got a woman behind me to take this photo of me just about this time.

You can see how the rain had blown in on us in this section. Also, look how wet that ring is. And the chalk circles were pretty much gone -- washed out by the rain. I couldn't imagine it would be safe for a matador to try to fight a bull in those conditions.



I was right. A few minutes later they canceled the bullfights and told people their tickets would be good for June 4th, or something like that.



Given the rain, I was glad I hadn't coughed up 42 Euros for a ticket. I'm not coming back for the rain date.



My biggest disappointment, though, was not hearing a crappy band play. Seriously, I was looking forward to that, wondering what they'd really sound like in Madrid.

Madrid: conference on economics and intellectual property

I am in Madrid this weekend to attend a conference on the economic analysis of intellectual property. I am really looking forward to spending some time with my friend, Stan Liebowitz at the conference (who is doing some interesting empirical work in the field).







The conference starts on Monday, but I arrived Friday evening so I could do some sight-seeing first. I had no idea where to stay or what to do here, and the conference organizers booked me into this hotel.





As you can see from the "norte" it is in the north end of Madrid, in a newish business section of the city. Unfortunately it is miles and miles and miles from central and old Madrid, so I am quickly familiarizing myself with the Metro/subway here, having bought a tourist 5-day pass.



As you look north from the steps of the hotel, you see all the construction continuing in this section of town. Spain, like Ireland, seems to be booming in part as a result of its entry into the European Union.









The hotel is on a short street named Mauricio Ravel. I think he probably deserves more that a two-block-long street named in his honour, don't you? But maybe it's because Ravel was French, even though Bolero was a (sort of) Spanish dance piece. Or, more likely, it's named for someone else who isn't even listed in Wikipedia.



I arrived at about 6:30pm and had read that the city just wakes up then and stays up very late.



So after checking in, I started walking south toward the main part of the city (note: I never really got there). The first place I passed of interest was a shop with this in its window:







An interesting toilet paper holder, but even more interesting toilet paper! I've never seen toilet paper in those colours before, and I'm not sure I'd want to use it. I'd seen pink crepe paper masquerading as toilet paper near the Victoria Gardens in London, but never these colours.



A bit further south is the Plaza Castilla. That diamond shape sculpture in the foreground is not really all that tall (maybe 3or4 stories tall), but look at the twin buildings behind it! I sure hope (and certainly expect) that they are well-anchored because they look as if they would fall over if you let too many people visit the upper floors. You can see the construction just north of my hotel in the very centre of the photo.







After I walked south some more, I decided to stop walking (I've been doing far too much walking lately) and went into the next place I saw (after making that decision) that had outside tables where I could sit and drink some beer or wine.



Btw, the temp at 7pm was shown by several places as 32.5C, which is about 149F, I think. Or so it felt after leaving cool England. Thank goodness the forecast highs for the next few days are only in the mid 20s. I brought along a pair of shorts to wear, but I noticed last night that I saw zero men wearing shorts in this part of Madrid, and heaven knows I do not want to stand out, looking like a tourist (of course the only short-sleeve shirt I brought was my Eastbourne soccer/football shirt, which is probably a tip-off anyway....). I didn't bring any sunscreen, so I went into a pharmacy to buy some. They wanted 21 Euros for a small thing of 50block — that's about $30 Cdn or so. I decided to look elsewhere.



The first food and drink place I went into didn't serve wine, so I tried to order a beer. But the server didn't know English, and the phrase section in my travel guide didn't have the word for "beer". Another customer helped me out though.



The woman who helped me there chided me for not ordering a sandwich, too, because that place just happened to be the best place in Madrid for sandwiches, according to her. I told her I was saving room for food from some tapas bars — bars where they serve little bits of food to go with your drinks. She pointed me in the direction of several that she said were very good.



But when I got to them, I realized they were very upscale, and I really wanted more of a smaller neighbourhood type place where the waiters weren't wearing tuxes. So I wandered on south, thinking I might go past the the stadium where Real Madrid plays football/soccer, but I didn't get that far. I passed a smallish corner place that had a few tables and lots of glasses hanging over the bar and all the patrons were looking at the far wall. I figured they were watching something on tv, so I stopped to look.



Yup, a bullfight. So I went in. That bartender also spoke no English, but I had memorized how to say "a glass red wine please", figuring I'd stay watch a bit of the bull fight and try to figure it out. He poured some wine for me, and then put up a plate of tapas — a small ham and potato thingy that was sort of nice, and I hadn't even expected it. It turned out to be one of the places where tapas are complimentary.



I had that wine, watched tv and then had another. The second plate of tapas was a small piece of bread (from a baguette) and some thinly sliced dried sausage/salami type of meat.



Bullfighting. I really can't understand it. I'll have to read up on it some more before Sunday, when I think I might go to one with my friend Stan and his wife. but it looks pretty damned cruel, even to me, a devout speci-ist.



By the time I'd had a beer and two glasses of wine, I was pretty blitzed. and I had at least a mile, maybe two, to walk to get back to my hotel. It was 9:30 by then, and the city was just coming alive. That's so hard for me to get used to. People just going out to eat so late, even in delicatessens, some obviously just leaving work:







Look at all that ham!! And look at the old guy who had pulled up a chair so he could play the slot machine there.



As I continued to walk home, I saw this car, an Aixam "half-car" which is a French vehicle that is probably too underpowered to make it in North

America. Cute, eh?







And then in a bus stop, I saw a sign for my favourite soft drink, Coke Zero. I don't know Spanish, but I agreed with the ad that seems to be saying something like "It tastes just like the original Coke, not like crappy old Tab or Diet Coke"-- that's a very loose translation.







Sadly, though, it doesn't. I bought some, and the Spanish version tastes nothing like the original Coke in North America anyway. So I'll have to stick to beer and red wine.

Erratica

Huge boulders transported by glaciers and left lying in fields as the glaciers receded are known as glacial erratics, but Ms. Eclectic, The Chauffeur, and I much prefer the term "erratica". Here are two of many that we saw in County Clare.

Near our B&B near Fanore:







Near Poulnabrone Doman (about which more later):

A Genuine Irish Pub and the F'n Four From Fanore

While staying in Fanore in western Ireland, we had a meal at O'donohue's village pub one evening. It had the atmosphere of an Irish village pub as they are stereotypically presented in just about every movie or television show I have ever seen. One difference was the four young men who were also there. I tend to use swear words a lot myself, especially in pubs, but we christened these men "The F'n Four from Fanore".



I was intrigued (amused?) by the "a" in the pub's sign, too. Surely it was put up that way on purpose, but for the life of me, I cannot figure out why. I even looked on the internet a bit to see if there might be some Gaelic letter that looks like a backward "a", but could not find one.

The food was good. So was the atmosphere, though I think I enjoyed it more than did Ms. Eclectic and The Chauffeur.

Doolin Latte

Having previously posted pictures of lattes served us in Galway, Ireland, I thought I might also post this picture of the latte served Ms. Eclectic in the small village of Doolin, County Clare. No fancy swirls on top, but nicely layered.

Colours in Kilvarna

A building on the main street of Kilvarna. I love the colour selections and combination.

How to Watch a Play at The Globe Theatre

The Globe Theatre in London is roughly on the site of the old Globe Theatre from Elizabethan days and does performances in a venue designed to capture some (but only some) of the flavour of those performances of yesteryear:

• patrons may come and go as they please
• patrons may drink or eat during the performances (the latter day version is that some of them used their cell phones to text their friends)
• there is a "yard" between the stage and the benches, where for 5 £ people may stand through an entire performance if they really have the stamina and want to see the play
• there is no roof, except over the stage and over the bench seats; people standing in the yard (which is concrete and very hard on the feet) get wet when it rains.
• as one of my colleagues put it, people may fondle each other while the play is being performed.

The modern-day Globe does, however, use female actresses for the female roles most of the time.



Each year, the International Study Centre, where I am presently teaching, descends upon The Globe with approximately 150 students, all with tickets for The Yard. Last year, it was cold, it rained, and we saw an uninspired performance of Coriolanus. Even though I had paid a small fortune to upgrade from the yard for a bench seat (wooden, no back), the rain on all the plastic rain jackets made so much noise that it was difficult to hear the actors (umbrellas are not permitted). Also, I just don't much care for Coriolanus. So I left at the intermission and went to a restaurant/bar nearby where I chanced to meet about a third of the students who felt the same way.



This year, we saw Othello (geez I dislike the Shakespeare tragedies; it is so hard to watch people's lives spiral down the toilet). Remembering my experience from last year, I decided a bench wasn't worth the money and that I'd try to tough it out with the students in the yard.





I got to the yard early enough to secure a position next to the wall dividing us riff-raff from those who ponied up for the bench seats. That proved to be a good choice because

1. I had something to lean against during the show (patrons in the yard are not allowed to sit), and
2. I was pretty well protected from the rain by the thatched overhang that protects those in the tiers of bench seats.

And yes it did rain this year, too. In fact it rained pretty seriously off and on during the show. So what many people did was leave while it was raining, go to the gift shop or snack bar in the theatre, and then come back in when the rain stopped.



I had pretty much decided that again I would leave at the intermission. My feet were killing me, and the performance wasn't all that great (though the two women were good enough that they'd have received rave reviews in Stratford, Ontario), and the directing was less than uninspired. But during the interval (aka intermission), I met a colleague who said he was going to sit out in the lobby until the last half hour or so.



Brilliant. We went for a beer in the theatre bar, discussed acting and Shakespeare, etc., and then went in for all the death scenes (which are, unfortunately, pretty stupid).



But it's a great way to watch a play at The Globe: have a beer and miss some of the play.



Update: My friend, Rory, says he would prefer to skip the play and just go for beer if watching the play meant standing the whole time.

The Burren Perfumery

The Burren Perfumery in County Clare, western Ireland, is out in the middle of nowhere and not all that easy to get to. I'm not sure it was worth the effort to find the place and drive there, but their tearoom is nice and the woman making soap was interesting, and The Chauffeur was quite enthralled with the place.



They also have an interesting garden, where I took this photo of a tulip shortly after it had rained:

Do Burqa Wearers Suffer from a Vitamin D deficiency?

I don't know what started my thinking about this question, but it was probably this article in TownHall by Mary Grabar, which decries the lack of freedom for women under Islamic fundamentalism (and, I would add, much other religious fundamentalism)[h/t to Judith]. I was picturing Muslim women not leaving the house much; and, when they did, being covered from head to toe and hence unable to use their bodies to produce vitamin D from exposure to the sun.



Shortly after reading that article, I read this posting from Craig Newmark, which points to potential evidence that vitamin D plays a major role in reducing the risk of cancer, and I wondered whether Muslim women (or anyone else for that matter) who wear clothing that covers all but a slit for their eyes any time they are outside have a higher risk of, or show more signs of, the symptoms associated with vitamin D deficiency. Or do they adjust for the lack of sunlight by altering their diets to get more vitamin D?

Surfing in Ireland???

Yup, along the west coast. These photos are from the village of Fanore.

The London Skyline

Recently, Tyler Cowen at Marginal Revolution posted a short item about London, England, that led to considerable discussion in the comments about London architecture. I was struck, during my visit there last weekend, by all the construction cranes and booms and how much the skyline is likely to change over the next few years. Here are two pictures, taken from Southwark Bridge, showing the development underway (count the constructin booms and cranes) both east and west of St. Paul's Cathedral.

East:





West: